The Journey Of Life
by Whisper-of-Warning
Summary: "Life is a precious thing; sometimes we forget that." A boy who thought he had it all and the girl who knew she had nothing will be thrown head first into a raging sea of life and love with nothing to hang onto but each other. This isn't your average love story; this is about a lost boy named Jace Herondale and the girl that guided him home.
1. The Beginning

**Hey, so I had an epiphany in the shower the other day! And I just had to write it down! Don't worry, Demolishing the Social Pyramid is still being written, so don't fret! But I had to write it down; it won't be long maybe a threeshot possibly shorter. But here's the intro; tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: The Characters are own by Cassandra Clare. Plot is all me. And Jace. . . he belongs to her. I know. . . I hate it too.**

**Jace: I do not belong to anyone!**

**Clary: Jace?**

**Jace: Yes, sweetie?**

**Clary: Could you go get me something to drink?**

**Jace: Of course!**

**Clary: Good boy.**

* * *

Life is a tricky thing. It could be one of the most breathtaking experiences; like the sun setting in the horizon or the sounds of the waves hitting the shore. Sometimes we don't see the small things, like the feel of grass in the morning; the dew squishing between your toes or the taste of lemonade on a hot day.

Life could be tricky. Not always.

People forget the little things; the things that are most important. I was one of those people. I forgot the things that mattered; the things that made sense. I forgot what the meaning of life was; I forgot about family and love.

But she gave it back.

You see this is more than my story; this is about a girl. She was no more special than any other girl from the outside, with bright red curls that she could never seem to tame to the freckles on her nose. But she was so much more than she seemed.

This is her story.

Our story.

It was a rainy morning; the day I met her. Now, thinking back to all those years ago it was wrong for the sky to be crying. It shouldn't have been dreary and gloomy, not when she was around but it was. Though, she seemed to generate her own sunlight; she basked in it throughout everything and I think that's what made her so special; her ability for happiness. I had been standing with my friends around my locker because it was a cultural gathering of sorts. Like a rite of passage, in a way.

See, I ruled the school with an iron fist and, back then, it made all the sense in the world for it to be that way. I was the best looking kid there was, my mom told me every morning along with the entire female population of Kingsley—that was our high school—which wasn't saying a lot since we had about 10 girls that "mattered" at the school. Back then I was floating on cloud nine, at least I thought I was, the ladies were at my beck an' call—I had a different one every night— and the world seemed to be in the palm of my hand. It really wasn't but I felt it was.

I still remember the way she looked when she walked in that day, not because she was extravagantly beautiful but because I'd never seen anyone so . . . free. I couldn't think of the word then; all I could think of was the mix-matched outfit she wore, the random shit around her neck and the paint that coated her hands and arms. Image was everything then and Clarissa Graymark was not at all the right image for Kingsley.

But only because I couldn't see she was absolutely perfect already.

* * *

_Jace looked at Sebastian Verlac with what could best be described as a look of contempt. "That's just the way life works."_

_Sebastian threw Jace a laugh as he hung his arm around his large shoulders. "Yeah, well, let me know if you ever tire of living in your life," As if on cue a group of girls walked by; they giggled as they waved flirtatiously and fluttered their eyelashes at Jace. "Because I would, sure as hell, love to live it."_

_Jace tossed his head back, his mane of curls falling with him as Sebastian's arm fell away from him. "No chance."_

* * *

That's when she walked in. She wasn't wearing a rain coat that day, though the forecast had said there would be rain the week before the one we had been on. But then she never had a rain coat, I wouldn't learn until later that she didn't even want one in the first place.

Her hair hung down her back, slick with rain; she was completely drenched from the downpour and yet she never complained. Her shirt hung tight to her and made her figure noticeable for the first time since ever and her ripped and stained jeans had to be uncomfortable but she never showed it (if it even did at all). In fact, she looked happy to be soaking wet and in the middle of a clustered hallway full of judgmental teens.

I remember everything about her; all too clearly.

* * *

"_Look what the cat dragged in," Sebastian said as he gave the petite girl a disgusted look. "Literally, she looks like a drowned cat. Why doesn't she just wear a damn coat?"_

"_Because she's weird." Jordan Kyle answered, his shaggy hair falling into his face. "I mean, only someone crazed would move into old man Hodge's place up on Mount Angel."_

"_No," Sebastian shook his head. "Only someone crazy would be related to old man Hodge." He said as he threw another disgusted look at Clary, who gave him no notice as she smiled and continued on to her locker._

* * *

I thought she was trying to hide her feelings; the hurt and the pain she felt but I was wrong. Clary was never sad; her smile was genuine. Her bright green eyes always held that far off look and it wasn't until later that I realized it was because she was always in her own world.

A world I found I wanted to be in too.

At the time, I couldn't have agreed more. See, Old Man Hodge was like a bag of cats; you could practically smell crazy on the guy. The stories said that he was a priest that moved here with his pregnant wife, not too long ago, and that she miscarried. Hodge had been so upset he threw himself into a drunken stupor and began to beat his wife; who found solace in another man's arms because of it. Hodge had been so depressed and angry, that when she wife came back to get her things he killed her before he tried to kill himself. From that point it gets a little sketchy; some say that the angels in heaven were in outrage at a man of God so they cursed him to remain in that house on Mount Angel for the rest of eternity.

No one every saw him leave his house either; and not too long after the rumors flew Clarissa Graymark showed up in our small town. Soon, she was the talk of it but she never gave anything away; didn't relish in the gossip other girls did and because of it she was outcast. But she never looked sadden by that fact; she only looked more powerful.

* * *

"_The way I see it," Jace said a smirk on his face. "She is to be seen, not heard. Besides, I have bigger things to be thinking about."_

_Jordan pushed his shoulder against Jace's, making him slightly fall back into the locker behind him. "Yeah, like the scouts that are gonna be at the game tomorrow night?"_

"_Or how hard you're gonna do, Aline Penhallow, tomorrow night after the game?" Sebastian said with a devilish grin as the guy's gave out wolf calls and shoved Jace around, who had a permanent smirk on his face._

"_Both." Jace grinned as they guys let out loud cry's and huddled down the hallway after him; making as loud of a ruckus as they possibly could._

* * *

I lied that day. It would be the first in a stream of lies I would tell for her—though she never asked me to—this just being the beginning. See, I didn't have "bigger" things to be thinking about. I didn't know it then but she was the light to my universe, the sun that lit up my entire sky.

I'm Jonathon Christopher Herondale, but everyone calls me Jace, and this is more than just my story.

This was our story, Clary's and I.

This is a story about a boy that got lost and the girl that guided him back home.

* * *

**Please Review! I really need feedback!**

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**REVIEW!**


	2. Whose Crazy? You or Me?

**Cassandra Clare owns what I wish was my life. **

**I know . . . depressing.**

* * *

_Jace tapped his pencil against the hard oak desk; shifting uncomfortably in his seat as Mr. Hanson droned on about the polar coordinates of a circle or something like that. . ._

_He made a groan under his breath as the tapping of his pencil increased. Did the clock always move that slow? He couldn't really remember but it never seemed to before. Every tick seemed like a bomb dropping as Jace trained his eyes on the infernal machine. _

_**Tick. Tick. Tick.**_

_Usually he wouldn't be this excited to get out of class and to get football practice but the scout's were coming soon._

_Coming to see him._

_He felt his hand moving faster as his jittery leg started shaking his desk, the clock over Mr. Hanson's bald head continued to tick at its painstakingly slow pace. This was the breaking point, if he didn't prove himself to the few scouts that showed they wouldn't spread the word of his talent, which he had much of, and he would never get a scholarship and away from this hell hole of a town._

"_Mr. Herondale?" Jace stopped his leg instantly and looked up as Mr. Hanson's large shadow settled over him. The man's face was permanently sunburned as his beady eyes regarded the golden teen."Are we boring you?" He said as his hand came down hard on Jace's and stopped the pencil that was now being hurdled against his desk._

* * *

This was the big question, the question that set my whole existence into motion. You know when teachers say "there's no such thing as a stupid question"? They are absolutely and completely lying to you. Of course, there are stupid questions, exhibited right here with Mr. Hanson's question. I mean, of course he was boring me. Who in God's green Earth wants to learn about polar coordinates? When was I ever going to use polar coordinates?

Never. That's when.

It was a purely innocent but stupid question, the type that was supposed to intimidate you and make you sit up straight, eyes facing forward and pretend you gave a shit about whatever they were teaching. Which, I actually did know what he was teaching; that polar coordinates stuff. That was a positive step in the right direction.

Anyway, back then I had to be a pain in the ass. It was part of my. . .charm. Clary told me once that it was part of who I was but it had nothing to do with charm. She was the only one who ever had told me that, but then again she was different from all the other girls. She was different from all the other people in the world. Clary was her own person and along the way she taught me how to be one too.

But that lesson would come later so, naturally, when Mr. Hanson asked this mediocre question; I answered it the best way I knew how. The way I knew everyone would enjoy.

* * *

"_Honestly," Jace said sinking further into his seat, his long legs spreading and taking up more of the desk space than they should have. His made his face hold a look of disinterest, which he knew would get Mr. Hanson to turn a deeper red and make the vein on the side of his forehead pop out. Jace locked eyes with Jordan, who seemed to know what was going to happen because he shook his head and pleaded with him from across the room with his eyes. "Yes, you are boring me quite a bit."_

* * *

In truth, it was stupid to answer that way but I was still growing back then. And I was so far lost I didn't even know who I was anymore.

That innocent question was answered just as innocently. And of course was gifted with. . .

* * *

_Mr. Hanson's face bunched up and Jace took it as a success when he saw the vein that was popping out of his teacher's forehead. "That's it, Mr. Herondale, I have been lenient before but I'm through. I'll be seeing you in detention, I'm sure you and I can find something to do that's less boring there together."_

"_What!" Jace's mouth dropped open as he sat up straight in his desk. "You can't do that, Mr. Hanson—"_

"_Oh, on the contrary," Mr. Hanson smiled; it was one of relief and not force. He took some sort of pride in taking Jace Herondale by surprise. "I can and __**will**__ do just that."_

"_But, sir, we need Jace." Jordan said from his side of the room, having now taken off his fingers from pinching the bridge of his nose and had stopped slamming his palm into his forehead. He shot Jace a glare before pleading further with the red faced teacher. "We have a huge game against Bakersfield tomorrow and if we lose than we can't go into the championship leagues. Jace has to be at practice, he's our quarterback." This seemed to soften Mr. Hanson slightly as he trained his gaze on Jordan. "I'm sure if Jace sincerely apologized it would be enough, wouldn't it, Mr. Hanson?" Jordan threw his 10-watt smile in just to seal the deal._

* * *

See, our school took great pride in its football team; a lot of the major funding went toward it and that had many of the other students in outrage, Clary being one of them. Even, teachers took great interest in the football department of the school; sometimes they overlooked homework or other discrepancies that could get in the way of messing with the footballer's game.

Especially me.

My dad was the coach, Stephan Herondale, but that wasn't all he did; he also happened to be the Mayor of our sorry little town. And because of it, that meant people gave his son certain privileges other students didn't get. At the time, I liked that; getting leniencies for things. It was an easy way of life but I would learn how corrupt it was too; that there was another path to life that was much more difficult, involved a lot more work, but was so much more rewarding.

* * *

_Mr. Hanson squinted his beady eyes, they reminded Jace of the crab he had for dinner last night, at Jordan before he settled his disturbingly small gaze on Jace. He raised one golden eyebrow in response knowing that Mr. Hanson was going to take the bait. "That seems. . .fair. I think I can overlook Mr. Herondale's rudeness if he apologizes."_

_Jace knew this was his chance; his way out of detention. He knew how mad his dad would be if he found out that Jace was missing practice; a practice that was right before a huge game. Actually mad was too soft of a word; he'd be enraged, livid, infuriated, irate, furious. You name it, he'd be it._

_But he couldn't seem to swallow that damn pride of his; the one that kept creeping to the surface; the one that reminded everyone of who he was, who his family was, that reminded people that he was Jace Herondale. A boy to be held in high-esteem or praised like a monumental God._

_Jace snorted, his head falling forward and his golden hair with it as his trademark smirk fell into place. From across the room, Jace heard Jordan groan and let his head fall to the desk's surface with a bang, obviously knowing what he was about to do. He regarded Mr. Hanson like the man had no more worth than gum on the bottom of his shoe. "I hope you enjoy waiting then, Mr. Hanson, because it will be a sorry day in hell before I apologize to someone like you." His smirk seemed to deepen as Mr. Hanson clenched his hands into fists and his face became redder. "In fact, while you're at it, you can start holding your breath too. That should make things interesting."_

_The bell rang just as Mr. Hanson slammed the light pink slip of paper on Jace's desk. "I will meet you in room 340, Mr. Herondale." Mr. Hanson seemed to be trying to calm himself as he took a deep but shuttering breath, his nostrils flared with rage. "Don't be late."_

_Jace gave him a mocking two-fingered salute and slipped out the door before Mr. Hanson could yell about that too, knowing he had no intention of actually going to detention._

_Jordan appeared beside him as they walked, his face scrunched up with amused disgust. "Just couldn't help yourself, could you?"_

_Jace turned toward his friend as they weaved they walked down the hallway, people parting like the Red Sea as they passed. He plastered his favorite smirk on his face as he turned to his friend. "Of course not, did you really think I would apologize to __**him**__?" Jace let out a laugh as Jordon frowned and shook his head._

"_He is your elder, Jace. You do owe him a certain amount of respect."_

_Jace rolled his eyes. "Respect doesn't matter with age, Jordan. It matters with connections; which I happen to have; pretty strong connections, in fact. I happen to be pretty close to the man that signs his paycheck."_

_Jordan stopped as Jace let out another laugh before frowning, wondering why his friend wasn't laughing with him. Jace turned, his hand holding the one strap of his backpack he had on his shoulder tight, as he looked at Jordan. "Is that really how you feel?"_

_Jace gave another laugh, this one more uncertain as he stared at his friend. Jordan's brown eyes seemed to be filled with disappointment, something Jace hadn't known from him before. "Of course, it's the way life works."_

"_Just because your dad signs his checks that makes you better than him?"_

_Jace rolled his eye before he grabbed Jordan's arm and pulled him along. "Yes, that's what I just said."_

_Jordan pulled back sharply, taking Jace by surprise when his eyes saddened and stepped back. "You know sometimes I'm not so sure who you are or if I even really ever met you."_

_Jace blinked. "What?" He seemed to snap out of it because he smirked again. "Are we having a bonding moment? Because I didn't bring any tissues and I'm all out of estrogen and chocolate."_

_Jordan just frowned and shook his head. "You have three different people in you, Jace. The football player, the popular kid and Jonathon Christopher Herondale: the Mayor's son; I'm never really sure who I'm talking to. But I sure as hell know it's not Jace."_

_For some reason, this made him mad. Who was Jordan to know who he was? He was just Jace, he didn't need this shit and he certainly didn't deserve it. Jordan should have been happy he associated with him at all. "You don't know the first thing about me; so don't pretend you do."_

"_That's exactly what I mean."_

* * *

What Jordan said had bugged me, more than I would have liked to was how I ended up painting Ms. Culsko's, or as I and the guys liked to refer to her as Ms. Wacko, props for the upcoming play. Though I could have gotten out of it easily with one quick call to my dad, but his words ate at me and put the first plant of doubt in my head. It would take seed once she entered my life.

Because the budget was cut so close—it all went to the "sports academic department" as you know—the drama and art department had to form together. Ms. Culsko taught both; I had been bitter then, thinking about how art was pointless and that it had no real worth to the world unlike how many people thought, before Clary taught me different.

A lot of the emo artists and drama geeks, or thespians as they called themselves, stayed back to help out with the props too; so I wasn't as alone as I thought I would be.

At least, that was how I felt back then about the artists and thespians.

I knew I had only been forced to paint the props for detention because Mr. Hanson wanted to flirt with Ms. Culsko; both being single and old. I thought it was pathetic at the time but that changed too. Everything changed, she made it change. And she did it all in the simplest way; because she loved me.

That was the moment when I met her first; as I sat their begrudgingly painting Ms. Culsko's giant night sky that was to be used in A Mid Summer's Night Dream for the upcoming play and yelling at any of the annoying kids that tried to teach me how to paint with more "care" than I obviously gave, I saw her.

She looked just as she had that morning with some minor changes; her clothes were dry now and her hair— which was parted down the middle— was in thick, curling, strands down her back. She looked just as happy as always as she floated up to Ms. Culsko and handed her a pile of pictures.

* * *

"_I took some more." Clary said with a large smile on her face; her green eyes were large and full of mischief and adventures. Her bright red hair reflected off the spot lights, making her look as if she was an avenging angel with blood dripping from her head. Ms. Culsko turned from Mr. Hanson, who also turned to Clary with a smile on his face. It seemed that everyone was happy around Clary, Jace observed; she had an air about her that seemed to be contagious._

"_Oh!" Ms. Culsko answered; her graying hair fell around her face in wisps. "What beauty did you bestow upon the world last night, Clary?"_

_The young girl laughed as she held out the pictures in her small hands. She looked so fragile under those lights, like a strong wind would break her. Ms. Culsko, as if sensing the same feeling that Jace did, gently and gingerly took the pictures from Clary's outstretched hands._

"_You'll have to look and see for yourself." She answered before turning her attention to the man standing just beyond Ms. Culsko._

"_Well, hello Ms. Morgenstern, you're looking lovely today." Mr. Hanson said with a fatherly smile on his permanently red face._

* * *

She had been Ms. Morgenstern back then when I first met her. But it will all make more sense as you listen to my story.

Excuse me, **our **story.

* * *

_Clary smiled radiantly back. Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and watch her in fascination as her face lit up, she was almost her own creature something totally different from the rest of us. "Why, thank you, Mr. Hanson. You don't look too bad yourself. I see that's a new bowtie you're wearing." She said her smile still in place. Jace felt something odd fill his stomach, almost like a fluttery feeling and a burning, almost like a nervous jealousy. Why wasn't she smiling at him that way?_

_His hand twitched as his eyes went wide, his hand accidentally painting over one of the white stars in the night sky. The thought had been effortless, like it was the most natural thing in the world to question. It made Jace queasier than he already was._

_There were a few choice people that accepted Clary, Jace wasn't one of them but Ms. Culsko and Mr. Hanson were; Jace had always suspected Mr. Hanson only really wanted to get into Ms. Culsko's pants, that's why he showed interest in the elfish red head, but watching them now he felt differently. _

_The older man smiled as he tweaked with the bowtie around his neck, Jace thought it made him look like a deranged large man-child, as he flashed a crooked smile at Clary. "Why yes, Ms. Culsko picked it out." This caused the older female teacher to blush to her graying roots. "What do you think? Be honest with me."_

_Clary looked at him for a moment in deep concentration, her green eyes flickering over Mr. Hanson's face and bowtie, like she was gathering all the information that she could and was trying to paint the perfect picture. Like she was assembling all her thoughts into a row, so that she knew exactly what she wanted to say when she spoke._

"_I think you look absolutely dashing."_

_Mr. Hanson let out a laugh as he placed a soft hand on Clary's small and delicate shoulder. It bugged Jace that she was so small; didn't she know that one wrong move from someone as large as Mr. Hanson or even himself could break her? Why wasn't she protecting herself more instead of letting him touch her? And yet, there was a strength in her that seemed to radiate outward from her tiny core. Something that made him think twice about calling her weak._

"_You are always a pleasure, Clary."_

_She smiled in response before looking to Ms. Culsko. "Do you have anything you need my help with?"_

_The older woman, who seemed to have gotten lost in whatever Clary had shown her on those picture, smiled and brushed some tears that fell from her cheeks. "Yes, of course!" She said in a hurry trying to hide the emotion leaking from her big, blue eyes. Jace couldn't help but try to stand on his tip toes to see over to the pictures she held in her hands but he was too far away. What could she have shown the older woman to make her tear up? "The night sky for the play needs to be painted still."_

_Mr. Hanson shot Jace a glare as if just remembering he was there. Jace rolled his eyes as he lazily picked back up the paint brush he had set down and got back to work; he may have stopped watching but he never stopped listening. "Jace is just fine painting that on his own."_

_Jace rolled his eyes again as he dipped his paint brush down in the royal blue paint before slapping it back onto the large propped wall. Ms. Culsko flinched at the sound, to which Mr. Hanson glared again. He smiled to himself as he locked eyes with Clary; her large, green eyes were covered with not one ounce of make-up and yet there was something about her that made her enticing. Something he couldn't name._

"_That's a pretty big wall, Mr. Hanson." She answered as she began to walk toward him, something in his stomach dropped with every small step she took in her beaten up old converse and every jiggle the things dangling from her necklace made as they slammed together._

_Mr. Hanson stopped her gently with a firm hand on her shoulder. "He's being punished and will work by himself until the entire wall is completely covered."_

_Mr. Hanson spoke in a loud enough voice that Jace knew that the implications of that sentence were mostly meant for him. He snickered to himself as he wondered what Clary would do. Would she whimper and run back to Ms. Culsko? Would she ask what he had done and agree with Mr. Hanson? Would she simply ignore him and critique his painting style? _

_Why did all those options make him feel like someone was pulling at his stomach?_

_Clary turned and looked up at Mr. Hanson as the older man looked down at her. She was quite small, Jace realized, yet she held herself with a high regard. Not as if she was better than everyone else but as if she were stronger than everyone thought. "No one should be alone, Mr. Hanson."_

_The sentence was innocent and even took Jace by surprise as he whipped his head to look at her. She spoke quietly, not to offend or argue with what Mr. Hanson said, as if she was simply stating a concrete fact. Mr. Hanson must have seen something in her eyes because he let go of her shoulder, wide-eyed and blinking before nodding his head and watched her go; Jace watched her come._

_She didn't meet his gaze; not in the way most girls did when he was around, like they were too shy to look him straight in the eye but more like she was in her own world. One that no one knew of but her as she stopped before him and picked up the untouched paint brush that lay beside him. _

_She looked at him then, right in the eye as if they were equals. As if she wasn't an outcast and he wasn't the Mayor's son. And then, she took him by surprise again, she smiled; her pearly white teeth set out on display as her plump, pink lips pulled back. "Hello, I'm Clarissa but you can call me, Clary." She outstretched her small, pale, paint covered hand in front of her._

_Jace blinked and, for what seemed like the first time, was speechless as he stared at her hand as if it was about to crawl off her wrist and come alive and eat him. He couldn't shake her hand that was practically social suicide. She stared at him with those giant green as and seemed to sense what he was thinking because she began to drop her arm, her smile unmoved._

_As if of its own accord, his hand shot forward and grabbed onto her; clinging as if hers was some form of life raft. Jace glared at his hand feeling a tad bit betrayed as it closed around Clary's; the room seemed to go silent as the students stared at them. _

"_Jace." He nodded once before dropping her hand and turning away; finding a new found love in detention prop painting. _

"_So there's some hope for you after all."_

_The comment threw Jace right off his game as he painted over another star and turn to look at her with wide eyes. "What?"_

"_Hope." She answered with a larger smile before dipping her brush and swiping her hand across the canvas as if she were performing a dance. For a moment Jace watched her hand as it twirling and weaved across the propped wall not hitting any of the large silver stars already painted on."Well, this was a silly idea."_

_Jace frowned as she changed the subject so rapidly. He was still stuck on what she first said. "What?" He found himself saying again. What was it about this girl that had him forgetting how to act like himself? Where were all his sarcastic remarks? Where were his half-assed replies?_

_Clary frowned; her large, dramatic, red eyebrows moving down over her sparkling eyes. They were like two gems; they were truly captivating. "This." She pointed her hand out at the wall before placing a paint covered hand under her chin. "It simply won't do. It's going to be nearly impossible to paint around these stars." She said indicating to the few silver stars that were still painted on, in the area where Jace hadn't destroyed several. He didn't think it was too hard for her, she looked like she could paint around them perfectly fine. It seemed like she was doing it more for him than herself, but he couldn't be completely sure and he didn't really want to care. "One moment." She lifted a finger up to him, like he cared about where she was going; which, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he did a little bit. _

_But only a little._

_She poked her head in the supple closet at the far end of the art room before disappearing inside. Jace hoped slightly that she wouldn't come back; there was something that unsettled him about her. And the longer he was around her the more his social status took the beating and went down the drain._

_But she popped right back out, to large rollers in her hands and that stupid smile on her face. She held one out to him to take which he did with uncertainty. He wasn't exactly sure what she wanted him to do with it as he held it in his hands like one would if they were holding something that disgusted them._

_Clary paid no attention to Jace's unease as she bent and coated the roller in blue paint and rolled it over the canvas in front of her; covering over the stars that were remaining on the large plank of wood. Jace's mouth dropped open as she stood on her tip toes to try and reach the top corner._

_She turned to him with a smile, like she hadn't just ruined Ms. Culsko's prop and motioned with her roller toward to the far corner of the wood. "Can you get that for me? I can't reach it."_

_Jace blinked. "Are you sure you're allowed to paint over this?"_

_Clary smiled sweetly back as she looked him in the eyes again, something in him wanted to step back from the strength in her stare. "Has what's been allowed ever stopped you from doing something before?"_

_The question took Jace by surprise; of course they both knew the answer. Jace could see it reflected in Clary's eyes as he smirked and stepped toward her, towering over her frame with his own. "I think you know the answer to that."_

_Soon she would fall to his feet and kiss them; that was the kind of affect Jace had on girls. They started to hyperventilate when he was around and when he smiled at them, they all but fainted. But Clary Morgenstern was not like most girls; this was more evident when she simply stared back into his eyes, making Jace feel as if they were stand face-to-face rather than him standing over her._

"_Good. Then you'll get that spot for me, won't you?" Clary didn't wait for him to answer as she turned away; he stared after her in shock. That wasn't right. She was supposed to fall to her knees and beg him to kiss her—most girls usually did—but she just dipped her roller back down and started on his side covering the entire piece of wood, the part she could reach anyway._

* * *

Those would only be the first signs that Clary was different. She would settle my ego instead of stroking it. She would be my sanity when the world seemed insane. She would be my rock that tied me down to Earth when I thought I could fly like an angel.

To this day, I'll never understand why she loved me. I wasn't truly anything special—at least not as special as I had always thought I was—I was just a spoiled, rich boy who thought he had the world in the palm of his hand. What I didn't realize was it was all a mirage. The moment I went to touch it, it would turn to dust in him hands.

The world, I was so foolishly living in, didn't really exist. That's why I think God sent me her, Clary, to try and guide me back. It worked too. That's why I pray every day and thank the big guy upstairs. She was the most perfect part of my universe.

And I wasted so much precious time trying to figure it out.

* * *

_It was still raining like it had been that morning as Jace raced to his car. He sighed heavily as he ran his hands through his wet hair, no doubt making the curly strands loop and twist in awkward ways around his head. He threw his backpack in the backseat of his new black Camaro and slammed the driver's door shut. Leaning his damp forehead head on the steering wheel he knew his father was going to be furious. He didn't really even want to go home. When he had been younger, he used to go to his best friends: Alec and Isabelle's house. They had turned their guest room into a room just for him, which he usually stayed in when he was over, joking that if he were going to become a true member of the Lightwood family he would need his own room. _

_He felt a sick twisting feeling snake through his stomach as something coiled inside him almost burst. He wished more than anything to go there now; but they wouldn't want him. Not after what he had done; he couldn't blame them, he wouldn't have wanted him around either. Jace closed his eyes and willed the pain to go away. But he couldn't, he knew it would always linger in his heart like a bad taste in his mouth. If his father knew he would call him weak and feeble. _

_But Jace would never tell him._

_Not ever._

_Starting the car seemed like the next best idea he had all day as he pulled easily out of the, usually, clustered parking lot. The sun had set and it was dark outside; he tried not to think about the lack of call or text he received from his mother or father. _

_In the distance, a shadowy figure shuffled forward. Jace squinted and brought his face closer to the windshield as he approached the wandering figure. His head lights swallowing them whole letting him get a glimpse of the night walker before he flew past them. He told himself he wouldn't go back as he tightened his hands around the steering wheel; that only bad things could happen if he went back. He continued to tell himself that as he turned around and cursed loudly, heading back the way he came and slowing to a crawl beside the mystery walker._

"_Get in the car." He said through the now rolled down window, rain droplets hit his cheeks and covered the inside interior of his cool leather seat._

"_My mother used to say never go anywhere with strangers; not even talk to them for that matter."_

_Jace rolled his eyes in no mood to joke. "I'm not a stranger. You know who I am, Clary, you just spent the whole damn day with me." He said through clenched teeth, wishing he had just continued to drive home. "Now, get in the car. It's dark, raining, and you don't have a damn coat on."_

_Clary turned her head toward him, reminding him of how she looked this morning. Her hair plastered to her face like red paint and her clothing clinging to her small figure. He couldn't leave her here; she was too small. A hawk could pick her up for all he knew._

"_I don't know you."_

_Jace raised an eyebrow and smirked as he brought the car to a slow stop as she stopped moving forward, her hands perched on her sharp hips. "You seriously expect me to believe you don't know about me?"_

"_I know of you, I know about you, but I don't know __**you**__." Clary said with a smartass smile of her own._

_Jace stared at her for a moment and waited for it to dawn on her that she was being asked by him to get a ride home. But the recognition he expected never shown in her eyes as she hiked up her large backpack and continued on her way. Something ate at the back of his mind as he remembered what Jordan had told him earlier._

"**You know sometimes I'm not so sure who you are or if I even really ever met you.**

"**You have three different people in you, Jace. I'm never really sure who I'm talking to. But I sure as hell know it's not Jace."**

_Just the fact that Clary, a small frail nobody, had said the same thing to him made him all the more upset as he hurled his car onto the graveled shoulder, parked, shoved the driver door open and ripped his key from the ignition. He stomped after her as she turned slowly around, the rain fell down her face like tears but her eyes were happy as she regarded him; like she enjoyed the fact that she was soaked to the bone with no coat on in the middle of a rain storm._

_Jace could feel his own hair begin to stick to his head as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Would you just get in the damn car, Clary?"_

"_Why?"_

_The question threw Jace off balance. This isn't what happened in all the movies, when the hot guy offered the nobody girl to let him drive her home. She shyly accepts it then and gets in without complaint. She never questions the hero for his duty; she never stubbornly wonders why he's doing it._

"_Because . . . because . . ." Jace yanked another hand through his hair in frustration as he stared down at her. "Because I already explained why! It raining, it's dark and you have no coat." Jace crossed his arms over his chest, which you could plainly see through the white t-shirt he wore. He waited for Clary to check him out, run those gemmed eyes across his frame but she never did. In fact, she showed no interest in going with him anywhere._

"_I always walk." She said with a shrug before turning back around._

"_Wait," He put a hand on her shoulder. "You do?"_

_She nodded giving him a prodding look, like she was waiting for him to take action; to do the right thing. Hadn't he already tried to do that though? He was trying to give her a ride home and she wasn't accepting. What more did she want?_

"_So, I know the way. I'll be fine."_

_Jace sighed and ran a hand down his wet face as rain fell down his cheeks, rolling down like water in a stream. "Well, I won't be." He winced as she raised her eyebrows at him. "My mother taught me to never leave a damsel in distress."_

_Clary's eyes sparkled as she smiled. "I may be a damsel but I'm in no distress."_

_Why was she making this so difficult? He knew he could just pick her up and throw her in the car but something about the way she held herself made him think it would be harder than it looked. "Would you please just humor me then? Do it for me and let me have some piece of mind that you got home."_

_She stared into his eyes as if searching for something in particular before she smiled and nodded her head, obviously finding whatever it was she was searching for. She wordlessly moved around him and headed for the door to his car, leaving him blinking in the street. That had seemed too easy; all she wanted was for him to admit he wanted to help her?_

"_Well," She said from the passenger side of his black car. He could barely see her wet, red, head over the hood of his vehicle."Are you going to unlock the door?"_

_He nodded a moment clearing his head as he jogged for the door. He opened his side before he leaned over and pulled the door handle and pushed hers open too. She smiled gratefully as she pulled her backpack on her lap and shut the door behind her. "Thank you. Oh," She said as she glanced down at herself. "I'm probably getting your car all wet, I'm sorry." He looked at her for a moment assessing her as she shivered; she seemed sincere as she looked back at him. _

_He shrugged as he pulled away from the curve. "It's no problem, its leather." He threw her a look from the corner of his eye. "But just for curiosity sake, why the hell don't you wear a coat again? It's pouring rain out; I mean, you own one, don't you?"_

_She shrugged her shoulders mimicking his nonchalance; she turned her head and trained her eyes out the window, still shaking from the chill. Jace leaned over and turned on her heated seat and threw the heat on for good measure. "Yeah, I do. I just don't want to wear it."_

"_Why don't you want to wear it?" It was the stupidest thing Jace had ever heard. "You'd rather catch your death instead?"_

_Something in his sentence made Clary flinch as she looked back at him, the shaking stopping. There was a sadness he had never seen in her eyes before and he decided he never wanted to see it again. It dimmed her green eyes to a mere shine and shadowed their true potential._

"_I don't think you can catch death." The tone of her voice was meek and hollow as if she had repeated the words to herself so many times they had lost all meaning."Death is more of a fog than a solid being." He snapped his eyes to her for only a moment to see her staring disheartendly out his windshield, her green orbs seemed to be miles away, her fingers playing with the random shit that hung around her neck. "You can't catch fog; you can only really wait until it clears."_

_Jace blinked as a silence took over the car. It was an awkward silence for him but he didn't think Clary truly took any notice to the tension she had built. So Jace broke the silence and the saddened gleam in Clary's eyes the only way he knew how._

_By telling the truth._

"_That has to be," He said slowly feeling her eyes slowly begin to focus back on the real world and not the one that lived in her mind as she turn her head his way. "The craziest shit I've ever heard."_

_A large smile broke out across her face, her white teeth seeming to light up the dark confides of the car. Something in Jace's chest lifted seeing her smile again, a burden he didn't know he carried until that moment. "A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?"_

_Jace frowned before he looked at her a moment, she was still smiling the light in her green eyes back in place. "Who said that?" He asked with his own smile as he turned his eyes back to the road._

"_Guess."_

_Jace frowned for a moment as he shuffled through the famous people he knew of in his mind. "Robert Frost?"_

_Clary laughed making Jace smile bigger as he turned to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her face held the supreme look of happiness; she may have been laughing at him but it didn't matter. He still made her smile and something inside him warmed at the thought of it._

_She shook her head. "No, but good guess."_

"_Who was it?"_

"_Albert Einstein."_

_Jace nodded as he mulled it over. "Well then it has to be something to consider if he said it."_

_Clary smiled again, as they pulled up to the winding gravel drive way that was known to lead to Mount. Angel. "I think we all wonder about that. What is normal anymore?" She said as she pushed open the car door and hopped out of the warm car. "Thanks again, Jace, it was really sweet of you to drive me home." She said it was a certain look in her eye, like she knew the consequences if he had gotten caught with her in his car. If he was caught associating with her at all, which were severe._

_So, why is it he seemed to have forgotten?_

_Jace shrugged again, like he helped drive the outcast home all the time "No problem." He made it seem like it was all nothing, but something in his stomach told him this was just the beginning and he had set it all in motion._

"_That was a mistake." Jace murmured to himself as he watched her hurry up the steep driveway, stumbling slightly from her heavy backpack. Jace felt like a jerk for not driving her to the porch before she opened the front door to the large Victorian home and turn back; that large smile was still on her face, the same one she had given Mr. Hanson and a flutter of something took over his stomach before she waved and walked through and disappeared inside._

* * *

But it would be the best mistake I ever made.

* * *

**You get a little taste of Clary's character in this chapter.**

**What did Jace do to the Lightwood's? Will he ever figure out he's no better than the rest of us?**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**What's your favorite book?**


	3. What I Didn't Know Yet

**Sorry, for the long wait! But I hope it will be worth it for you. You'll get to have a little background on Jace's character! And we all know how much we love Jace.**

**As always I'm just an obessed fan at home writing about a world Cassandra Clare created while she reaps the benefits of her genius mind.**

**In other words, I own nothing.**

**I want a Jace *sigh***

* * *

_Jace sat in his car as it idled. His knew he had to go in and talk to his dad; his brain was urging him onward, trying to coax his legs to move but he was frozen. He didn't want to have to see his father's disappointed and angry scowl. He already knew what he was going to say, something along the lines of him being an utter disappointment and how he was his father's greatest regret. He didn't know if he had the patience today._

_He ran a hand through his wet hair and briefly chanced a look in the seat beside him drenched in water. The small droplets rolled from the middle of the leather seat and fell down. Clary Morgenstern was so tiny; she barely even reached the top of his seat. Her bones looked like he could crush them in his hand to dust and yet there he had found her; without any fear at all walking through the aimless, cold darkness going home. _

_Jace didn't completely understand her. She was a pretty girl, he supposed, though there were a lot of pretty girls around him; some much prettier if he were to be honest, but she had something no one else had. Something he had never seen in someone before, it drove him crazy that he couldn't put his finger on the word he was looking for._

_He sighed as he cut the engine, not wanting to waste anymore of his precious gas, and slowly opened and stepped out of his car door. The lights were on and illuminating the outside world with its bright glow. Jace had always liked his house; it was a large white mansion, much like the President's. He liked what it stood for: wealth, power, importance, propriety. It reminded him of his own self-worth and made him raise his head higher in superiority. _

* * *

Back then I thought that was the meaning of life to have wealth and power. Boy, was I wrong. Thing is, no one told me differently. My father never showed anything but contempt for anyone and this didn't change when he spoke to my mother. It almost seemed like he regretted her much more than he ever could me. Love wasn't talked of much in our home; it was a cold place more than a warm-hearted one. But, this was all before.

Before her.

Before I fell in love with Clarissa Adele Garroway.

* * *

_He walked up the stone steps begrudgingly as Robert Lightwood, their butler; open the door with a flourish. Jace swallowed thickly as the nicely dressed man bowed with a wide smile; he wouldn't be smiling if he knew what Jace had done. But he didn't; he hoped he never would._

_The handsome butler grinned brightly; a smile that cut Jace to his deceiving, black core. _

_Just as it always did._

"_Hello, Mr. Jace. Did you have another fulfilling day?" Robert said with a deep laugh as he reached for Jace's soaking coat. When he and the other Lightwood siblings were little Robert would bounce each of them in turn up on his knee and tell them that life was to be embraced. He would smile at each of them in turn and ask them his favorite question._

"**Did you have another fulfilling day?"**

_They would set out each day trying to fulfill the most so they could all run back and try to amaze Robert; try to make him the most proud. He had been the father Jace had always wanted, he remembered being so jealous of Alec, Isabelle, and Max. He wanted his dad to look at him with that face; the face of pride in his kids. He wanted his father's eyes to light up when he told him about all the frogs he had caught at the pond out back or when he told him that he had climbed to the top of the big oak tree in the backyard meadow. Stephen's blue eyes never lit up the way Robert's did and after so long of only seeing the dull, lifeless, stultified stare he stopped his stories all together. _

_He only told Robert about his fulfilling day. Because only he cared._

_They didn't have much, the Lightwoods, but what they did have they shared with him whole-heartedly and how did he repay them? He had humiliated and deserted their son in his time of need; the boy he called brother. _

_Family._

_Jace bowed to Robert and gave him a weak grin, he would always honor and treat the overworked butler with as much respect as he could without looking suspicious. "It was . . . " He was going to say what he normally did, which was along the terms of fine or unexciting but he found himself stopping. His body, which had shown just how much of a traitor it was whenever he thought of her, seemed to be in command of itself as the words pooled out of his mouth. "Different."_

_Robert stared at Jace with warm brown eyes, the same eyes he knew Isabelle inherited, a look of relief falling over his face. "Oh? And is this different a good thing?" His wise eyes pulled at Jace's heart, knowing he could never lie, at least, not to Robert. He felt a sense of surprise when he realized he didn't want to either. _

"_Yes," Jace said as his mind conjured up a picture of the tiny red-head. The more Jace thought of her, the more appealing she became. And the more unsettled and frightened he became. "Yes, it was a good thing." He repeated with a nod._

_Robert smiled that fatherly grin Jace had grown so use to and clamped a hand on his shoulder. Taking his coat, he walked toward the large closet filled with his mother's furs and his father's wool trench coats. He never knew why they needed so many; his mother had a different coat for every outfit. In actuality, all you truly needed was one. _

"**Why the hell don't you wear a coat again? It's pouring rain out; I mean, you own one, don't you?"**

**She shrugged her shoulders mimicking his nonchalance; she turned her head and trained her eyes out the window, still shaking from the chill. "Yeah, I do. I just don't want to wear it."**

_Jace shook his head as if to shake her image out of his mind. He didn't know what she was doing to him; but he certainly didn't like it. At least, he didn't want to._

_Robert smiled largely from where he stood by the coat closet door; all white teeth and compassion. His brown hair was nicely swept to the side, not at all like his sons; which they let hang in their faces. Jace felt another shot of sadness take refuge in his stomach. If he were being honest, he missed Alec. He missed everything about the Lightwoods in all actuality. He missed Max's worshipping gaze and Isabelle atrocious cooking. He missed the way Maryse used to sing to him late at night and stroke his hair back. He missed the way Church—their cat— used to curl up at the end of Jace's feet wherever he sat. _

_Most of all, he missed answering Robert's favorite question honestly. _

_He missed being part of a family._

"_Well, you'll have to come over sometime." Robert said as he gave Jace a nod. "Maryse and the kids miss you." The butler took a breath before looking the tall boy in the eyes. "We all do. And you know how Maryse feels about company. The more the merrier." He gave a laugh that Jace couldn't help but smile at. He knew how the other Lightwood siblings truly felt though. They wanted nothing to do with him. _

_But he gave no indication that he knew this as he bowed again toward Robert. "Yes, I should."_

_He wasn't outright turning the older man down, he truly didn't have the heart, but he wasn't accepting either. This might have something to do with the fact that he didn't really __**want **__to turn him down either. And with that being said, Jace turned his back on the past he knew; of the childhood he held dear to his heart and kept him human. Away from the problem that felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders and walked with stiff steps toward where his father's study, which he could see the light shining under the crack of the closed door. _

_He knew he would have to talk to him sooner or later. He just wished he could postpone sooner and just stick with later. But it would only fester if he did that; like a sickly, blistered wound. It would crack and crust; infecting him further rather than if he were to just approach the dilemma now._

_He took a deep breath and shook out his tense limbs. All he had to do was tell him about the detention. He'd tell the truth; that it had been his fault and he deserved the sentence; actually he deserved worse but he'd leave that part out. He'd also leave the part about talking and driving Clary home out too; not only would this downright enrage his father but he wanted to keep the experience all to himself. He wanted to keep her large, green eyes filled with mischief and wisdom selfishly to himself; her smile safe in his mind._

_He felt his heart sink in fright as he heard his father cough from the opposite side of the closed door. Hear the clanging of glass—he was probably drinking scotch—on hard wood and the sound of his mother fidgeting on the leather sofa that sat in his father's pristine study. He drew in another shaking breath and tried to gain the strength to walk in; he shouldn't have truly been so scared. His father had never laid a finger on him in an incriminating way. _

_He'd been a reserved father; never one for large shows of love or devotion but Jace always knew he cared. Stephen was just never good at showing it._

_But something about him seemed to change when brought up with the subject of football. He wasn't allowed to call him "dad" out of the field only "coach". And sometimes, he played Jace too hard; worked him until he bleed. He had never really minded before; but now it seemed to irk him._

_He couldn't quite put his finger on what made him have a slight change in heart. _

_Clary's face popped him his head. The way she held herself; with strength not even he could truly understand. She acted as if nothing could break her; though she looked as delicate as a china doll. Her red mop of curly hair that she always left down and those big green eyes that seemed to take up most of her face. Those shining emeralds of undisguised emotion; Clary never hide anything behind a well-painted mask. She let everyone see what she felt; what she believed because she didn't really cared what anyone thought. She was strong; Jace could be that strong to._

_With a surge of power, he turned the knob of the study door open walking with soft, graceful steps into the well furnished room. His mother looked up from the couch where she sat with a smile on her face; his mother had always shone her love in an odd way. Cooing over him even at the old age he was; telling him he was better than everyone and that he was the most attractive child in all of town. _

_Jace already had an ego to rival the size of Texas; he really didn't need his mother adding to it. But this was how she showed her love for him. By complimenting and buying him things; things he didn't need nor really wanted. She wanted his love too much; he didn't know how to tell her she already had it without the toys she bought him. _

_He, again, thought of the small red-head. The way she held total disregard for his image; the way she seemed to be looking at something past the shiny exterior that Jace wore. Like she was looking at his soul and was trying to see if he was worth saving. He blinked as he remember her smile as she walked toward where he crouched painted that dumb night sky. The way Mr. Hanson made no move to stop her as she stuck out her hand toward him; in an act not of defiance but in acceptance. Clarissa Morgenstern, the outcast, had been accepting him._

**"So there's some hope for you after all."**

**The comment threw Jace right off his game as he painted over another star and turn to look at her with wide eyes. "What?"**

**"Hope." She answered with a larger smile**

_He let out a soft laugh as his mother gave him a bright smile. She opened her painted crimson mouth, no doubt to give him some sort of praise he didn't truly deserve but his father spoke first. Placing the glasses that had been sitting on the edge of his straight nose; his blue eyes were sharp and cold as they regarded his son with contempt._

"_Something funny, Son?"_

_Jace swallowed before rubbing his hand against the back of his neck with nerves. "No, Sir."_

"_Really? You don't find it just downright hilarious to have missed one of the most important practices of the year?" Stephen said his blue eyes beginning to warm with anger as Celine threw a quick and saddened look between the two males. His blonde hair was slicked back but Jace could see the ends beginning to curl back after a long day of wear. "Because I think it's just the best joke. Want to hear the punch line?" His father said in cool sarcasm; better than even Jace could manage. "Our quarterback flaked and we'll lose against Bakersfield. Funny, isn't it?" _

_Jace shook his head as he looked his father in the eye. "No, Sir."_

_Stephen stood from his desk with mock humor on his face. "Oh? You don't think so? Well, then there must be an even better reason for you to miss practice. If it wasn't some sort of joke."_

"_I got detention."_

_His father frowned before running a hand down his face; he was a handsome man; still fit and rugged from his days before he transformed himself in to a well-tailored politician. His tanned skin and tall physic was something Jace had inherited. Along with his golden hair and chiseled features but Jace had gotten his illuminatingly, unique eyes from his mother who also had the thick bright topaz swirling in her iris's._

_Jace was quick to speak before his father could ask how he had received and who had given him detention. For some reason he didn't want his father to know that Mr. Hanson had given him that pink slip. But the reason why he didn't want to give him away was completely beyond Jace's realm of thought at the moment. It was something he couldn't bother himself to think about._

"_But I'll make it up to you—"_

"_Sure as hell you will." Stephen answered in an obvious sort of tone. The words he used made Celine rise out of her seat. _

"_Stephen—"_

_The mayor gave his wife no notice as he looked solely at his son. The complete disregard and disrespect for his mother made Jace's hands curl into fists. Sure, she wasn't the best mom but she was his and he didn't like the way Stephen treated her._

"_You'll go practice right now and make up the three hours that you missed."_

_Jace gave him a wide-eyed expression. "But it's raining now and nearly 9 o'clock."_

_Stephen frowned and gave him a shrug, as if it was totally out of his hands. He sat back in his seat, his glasses back in place and his tone suggesting that the conversation was over. "Well then, you better get going if you want to make it home before 12:30."_

_Jace stood staring at his father for a complete moment in disbelief before his mother stepped forward. "Stephen, don't you think you're being a tad bit unfair." She spoke in a soft tone, so not to rile him up as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. _

_The gesture made Stephen whip around; making her hand fall away immediately as if the simple touch burned him. "Leave it be, Celine. In fact, leave me be as well."_

_Celine stared at her husband for a few beats before she nodded silently. The heart breaking look in her gaze made Jace want to cradle his mother close and shield her from his father's wrath. But she would never allow him to do that; because she had already taken it upon herself to be his shield. He knew how much his mother loved his father; he could feel it in every word, see it in every touch but the feeling was not mutual. It made Jace wonder why his father married Celine in the first place._

_As his mother picked up her discarded book from the leather couch, she had been uncomfortably perched just minutes before, and made her way out of the room she placed a cool and comforting hand on her son's shoulder. She placed a warm kiss to his cheek as she whispered in his ear._

"_You are my beautiful little angel; you shine like a beckon of light. My beautiful angel boy."_

* * *

My mother was a beautiful woman; all fines lines and soft strokes, at least that's what Clary said she was. Clary always talked like that; she described someone's beauty like you would a painting and for some reason it always seemed more enchanting that way. Celine fell in love was a golden boy in her youth; a boy who made her think on her feet and made her wish to please. She fell in love with Stephen Herondale at a very young age but Stephen Herondale never truly fell in love with Celine. It was the sad way her story ended. In a loveless marriage; one that devotion was only felt one way.

I wished my mother would have woken up and saw where her life was going. Because it was on the straight and narrow toward disaster.

And I was going right down with her.

* * *

_Jace parked with a jerk; his hand clenching his steering wheel far too tightly as he swallowed thickly as pushed the door open, grabbing his football bag in the back of his car before leaving and running through the falling rain toward the center station._

_He shivered slightly as he brushed some wet, lank curls away from his face and found the proper key he was searching for and pushed the heavy door open in a flourish for warmth though he found none. He looked out at the desolate football field with a sigh as he opened the electric box at the far corner of the room and turned the overhead lights on illuminating the desolate green arena in an eerie sort of glow. _

_With a sigh, he tied his Nike cleats and headed out into the pouring rain. It was slowing he could tell but the amount of downpour was still falling. He silently prayed to whatever God was watching that he wouldn't get sick. He began his conditioning as he jogged around the arena; he knew how many laps he had to do but he didn't truly want to do them all._

_He had a feeling if he lied Stephen would find out somehow and the thought of his father's wrath was too sick a sight to bear as he pushed onward into another lap. He thought of the way his father disregarded his mother; the way his mother acted like a kicked puppy and simply let him win. In a way, he both pitied and resented his mother. Why wasn't she strong enough to yell back; why didn't she challenge him? Why did she have to roll over when he told her to? Why did she jump when he simply said the word?_

_Jace let out a groan as he ended his 5__th__ lap; legs already burning and a stitch settling in his left side; he crouched on the ground to begin his pushups. His hands slide against the cool and wet grass as he dug his fingernails into the dirt to keep him in place. He could feel his muscles start to burn but he enjoyed it. The feeling of being pushed, challenged. He liked the way his body made up its own heat now as the rain acted like a cool regiment. His shirt clung to him in a mixture of sweat and rain water as he pushed himself harder; the anger and resentment toward his parents pushing him onward._

_The disgust at himself making him move faster._

_Jace was just about to practice his throws when a voice spoke up from the distance almost lost to him through the sound of the rain and his loud thoughts._

_"Hey there, Mascot." Jace turned in confusion, his blonde eyebrows scrunched low on his face as he clenched the football close. The rain fell in drizzles now; a slow type of fall that seemed to coat every part of skin that was exposed._

_A slim figure stood strong against the black sky and bright lights; seeming tall and powerful against the soft breeze like a Goddess or a warrior princess. It was the most captivating thing Jace had ever seen. Her hand was perched on her hip around a large cylinder strapped to her side; a camera hung around her neck like a necklace. Her smile was bright and open as she stepped toward him._

_Jace felt the foreign smile take over his face the closer she got. "You're still not wearing a damn coat."_

_"Neither are you."_

_Jace shook his head; his wet tendrils sticking to his cheeks before falling away. "What is with you and not wearing a coat? Do you want get sick?"_

_Clary smiled softly as she stopped a few feet away from him. Her green t-shirt clung like a second skin to her frail frame and her jeans made a strange rubbing sound with each step she took. Her red hair hung down her face in long, wet strands seeming to be a contradiction of the elements; fire and water combined._

_She shook her head; a fiery set of wet flames spreading out around her before falling back to place. "It has nothing to do with sickness and everything to do with living."_

_Jace raised an eyebrow as his signature smirk fell back on his face. Tucking his football securely to his side, he watched her smile widen. "And what does not wearing a coat have to do with living?"_

_"The feeling of the rain." she said with a sigh as she leaned her head back; the slow rain drops fell upon her face like tears. Jace found his eyes focusing on her slim, white neck. How fragile she looked, he could crush her with little force and yet a strength in her shined like a second sun. He had never met someone so confusing._

_And fascinating. _

_"It's funny." She said as she grazed up into the darken sky. Jace found himself glancing upward too, wondering what was so captivating that she wasn't looking at him. "I never used to care for the rain really. But now I find myself getting excited just at the prospect of it." She bowed her head, droplets falling down her cheeks. "You know, they say you've never known true happiness until you've danced in the rain."_

_"Whoever said that obviously never went to Disney World." Jace smirked. "Or met me."_

_Clary laughed as she tossed her head back in glee; Jace felt a sort of pride fester in his stomach as he watched her joy; knowing he caused it. There was something odd about this girl. Something he couldn't name or quite put his finger on. But now he knew he had to find out; if only to find whatever made her so different and take some for himself. _

"_What have you got there?" Jace said with a nod of his head to the shiny cylinder strapped to her small hip. _

"_A can of spray paint."_

_Jace let out an incredulous laugh before turning his surprised gaze back to her. What could she possibly need with that? Was she planning on painting someone's fence or something in the middle of the night? "And what could you possibly be doing with a can of spray paint?"_

_Clary dropped her gaze from his as if to contain her own laughter at the sight of his bewildered stare before she bit down on her plump bottom lip and looked back up at him. The rain seemed to make a curtain around them; trapping them in a strip of fantasy all their own._

"_Why don't you follow me and find out?"_

* * *

I stared at her for I don't know how long; thinking about that simple sentence. All she did was smile before she turned her back and walked away. I watched her go; wondering what exactly I should do. The football I had held in my hand felt like a weight instead of an escape all of a sudden as I watched her figure begin to fade. That one sentence that intrigued me and challenged me all at once to take the bait.

I followed her; grabbing my stuff and quickly shoving it in the car before running after her. She didn't mock me for my hurried pace as I tried to fall in step nonchalantly beside her; like I hadn't sprinted just to reach her. I didn't know it then; that I would have followed her to the end of the world if she had asked me too.

I didn't know just what I would do to earn one of her beautiful smiles or to make her eyes light up with happiness. I didn't know then that I was more of my mother than I cared to admit. Because I would have jumped if she said to; I would have rolled over if she wanted me too. I was like a lost puppy and she was my home.

I just didn't know that yet.

* * *

**So, Jace is still the scarred boy we know. **

**What could he had possibly done to the Lightwoods?**

**Why does his mother show him such odd ways of affection?**

**What is so fascinating about Clary Morgenstern?**

**Please review; I love it when you favor and follow my stories but hearing our feedback always give me extra drive to write more and faster!**

**Here's the question for you?**

**If you could be any household item, what would you be and why?**

**LOVE YOU, GUYS!**


	4. This Moment

**Okay, so I wanted to start off by saying I love you all! You guys have been so great; with all your follows and favorites and reviews! Seriously, you guys rock!**

**So, here's a chapter for you. It's all about Clace! But it's really short **

**I hope you still enjoy it anyway! And I love you all!**

**Seriously, I would totally invite all of you over and make you spaghetti if I could!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…still owning nothing.**

* * *

"_So," Jace said with a flap of his arms; the shirt that he had changed into when dropping his bag off at the car was well soaked and the material stuck to every inch of his torso making him scrunch his nose and pull the fabric away with a sucking sound before it fell right back into place. He sunk a glance at Clary from his peripheral vision; her shirt, much like his own, clung to her small and frail frame greedily leaving nothing to his imagination. He watched with hungry eyes as her small chest rose and fell with each breath she took, the soft curve of her breast on display as was the dip in her hips and her flattened stomach. Jace had a sneaking suspicion that Clarissa Morgenstern had a nice body shape hidden under all her large T-shirts and baggy jeans, what he didn't understand was why she was hiding it. "Are you ever going to tell me where we're going? Or are you just going to lead me blindly through the darkness and rain?"_

_Clary smirked and tossed her head to the side; her long red curls soaked and hanging swung with the movement as she looked up at him with what he could only describe as mischief in her big, green eyes."Have you ever heard that patience is a virtue, ?"_

_Jace cringed at the reference she had made; he was far from virtuous especially with thoughts of her and her soaking wet T-shirt. Jace shook his head in an effort to make the scandalous thoughts in his mind leave. Before truly thinking about what she said and wincing, he didn't like being called Mr. Herondale; it reminded him too much of his father._

"_I've never really been one for virtue, Miss. Morgenstern."_

_Clary laughed as she threw her head back; her red hair falling behind her like a curtain. Fire amongst the darkness; she was a light guiding him through the black of the night. "'Living without virtues is to live divorced from society, separated from the most important thing in life, community.'" She spoke simply; not to offend but to simply speak her mind. _

_Jace felt a flutter in his stomach as she turned to look up at him again; the smile still upon her face. "Queen Elizabeth?" He inquired his head inching slightly closer to hers as she shook it. Droplets of water fell from her hair like fragmented light and softly hit his cheeks._

"_Veronica Roth." She said with a grin._

"_How do you know all these quotes?" He asked, with a slight tilt of his head, something he knew he did when something intrigued him but would deny up and down if you brought attention to the simple act. "Or remember their names even?"_

_A dark look passed over Clary's face as she glanced down at her paint covered fingers; twisting them so forcefully Jace almost intervened and took her small hands in his. But something about the way she held herself made him afraid that if he did that he might actually break her. "I had a lot of time to read them." She said with a shrug as she walked forward again, Jace watched behind her with a look of curiosity. It seemed that every time he learned something new about this small girl she made another question take its place. She was the most complex person Jace had ever met and it only made him more interested in knowing her._

_She had secrets; everyone did. He had his own too. But hers were different; he could just feel it._

_She threw him a look over her shoulder; the moon cast a glow down from the sky as if to embrace her. Her hair glowed a deep red under the illumination as if she was truly a dancing flame. It cast shadows along her face making her small nose, plump lips, high cheekbones and large eyes seem more striking. Right at that moment, he had never seen anything so beautiful. She looked like another creature; something mystifying and forbidden. Like Eve and Adam and the forbidden fruit._

_Usually Jace loved anything forbidden, especially fruit, the more prohibited the sweeter it tasted but something about Clary made him want to lock her away. To keep her close and to never let her leave if only to make sure he kept his sanity._

"_Well, what are you waiting for, Mascot? Another invitation?" Her smirk made him want to run forward and kiss her. Something that he couldn't quite believe he was thinking in the first place._

_Jace smiled as he calmly placed his hands in the pockets of his cold and soaked basketball shorts and walked toward her; without a single smart-ass reply in his mind._

* * *

"_Unbelievable."_

_Clary looked at him from over her shoulder as she smiled a shy smile before glancing up at the large painting before them. "I'm glad you like it." She tucked a strand of hair behind her glistening, wet cheek before she walk toward the wall with steady steps. "I've been working on this for a while. I'm hoping that this will make Ms. Culsko very happy; it's her birthday tomorrow."_

_Jace blinked in astonishment as he stared at the totally innocent but law breaking girl in front of him. "So wait, let me get this straight. You not only vandalize brick buildings, which is against the law by the way, Ms. Culsko is in on the whole thing?"_

_Clary smiled at Jace as if he were too young to understand why she was doing what she was doing. It made him slightly annoyed as she patted his shoulder though Jace knew he was being irrational. "She does. I take a picture of the final result and I give them to her."_

_Jace's eyes fluttered a moment as he thought back to just earlier today; it seemed so long ago now._

**"I took some more." Clary said with a large smile on her face; her green eyes were large and full of mischief and adventures. **

**"Oh!" Ms. Culsko answered; her graying hair fell around her face in wisps. "What beauty did you bestow upon the world last night, Clary?"**

**"You'll have to look and see for yourself."**

"_This is what you showed her." Jace whisper in wonder as he took in the large painting before him; words couldn't describe what was shining in front of him so he made no effort to try._

"_Besides," Clary shrugged, clearing not hearing Jace at all as she pulled the can from the strap at her waist and the camera he had no idea hung around her hip also and shook the can vigorously. "I don't see it as vandalizing. This building has been sitting here old and abandoned; left to rot and completely forgotten." Jace turned and watched a sort of glow take refuge in Clary's green orbs as she stared upward at the foreboding building in front of them. "I want the world to see how beautiful it is; to show the world what is right under their noses." She blinked as if coming out of her own world as she turned to him not at all taken by surprise when she saw him staring at her. "It's about the little things, I guess, finding beauty amongst the rubble and the decay." She shrugged again as if she hadn't spoken with such feeling just seconds earlier. Her nonchalance couldn't fool him, not now. Not when he felt like he knew her._

_She smiled at him again. "I mean, who wants to be forgotten right?"_

_It was the wisest and simplest thing anyone had ever said to him._

* * *

I had never met anyone as smart as she was. Now, if you had given her a large mathematic equation and 10 minutes to complete it; she would have simply scrunched her nose and given you a piece of paper back with doodles on it. But on life; she seemed to know everything. Even the things we tend to forget; things that don't seem special or important but truly are.

The things we glance at but never see. The things we inquire but never know.

She opened up the world before my eyes and helped me see the true beauty out of the ashes. To see what was always right in front of me but never appreciated enough to truly look at. God had made us this beautiful earth; a place for freedom and life. And until her I was too self-absorbed to even appreciate anything that wasn't looking back at me in the mirror.

I didn't even realize what I was missing out on. As the saying goes: "Ignorance is bliss".

* * *

_Hovering before Jace was the outline of a golden angel. It shined with a urethral light; how she had managed to do that was beyond him but his eyes couldn't be deceiving him. The angel's long white robe seemed to sway in a nonexistent breeze, its hair flowing the same way. Its eyes were two blindingly bright almond-shaped beckons of illumination as it raised its hands up toward the sky. Two children knelt before the angel; one with striking close hair to Clary's while the other had hair white as snow. They sat with both of their heads down as if they were too heavy for the children to lift; the boy with the white hair had his arm around the girl with hair like dripping crimson as if to protect her from some unseen threat. _

_Jace watched as Clary stood uncertainly on one of the dumpsters tops; shaking her spray can again she carefully constructed a frown upon the wall. He, himself, frowned as he walked closer as Clary shook again and continued on. This went on for some time; Clary would shake the can and shift her posture as Jace watched mesmerized as the blank wall of old and moldy brick transformed into to something heart breakingly beautiful. It was a sad beauty; the picture now being complete made Jace's heart beat a little too quickly. Sitting before the children in deaden grass was a tombstone; nothing was written upon it but that only made it seem more painful. Jace knew why Clary had done it; so that anyone who looked at the stone could picture someone they knew; it made the painting personal._

_Jace felt his breath coming out in fast puffs as Clary blinked back and stared at her piece; the large, floating angel, the broken child, and the old tombstone. She had made a picture of life, love and death._

_Clary calmly jumped from her spot perched upon the dumpsters cover and landed to her feet lightly. Standing beside Jace she glanced up at her artwork; no look of pleasure or pride taking over her face. Jace stared down at her confused; this painting was incredible, no it was more than that. Words couldn't describe it. But she held no look of pride, just emptiness. And even, if Jace was going to guess, sadness too._

_Slowly, he walked toward the camera that sat behind the buildings wall and picked it up. He snapped a picture of the painting; looking down at the digital camera quickly to see the final result; if this didn't make Ms. Culsko cry nothing would. Clary continued to stare up at the painting as if it had transformed her into another world where her soul lied and her body was nothing but her shell. Her green eyes held no emotion as they stared upward and Jace thought she might just stand there forever completely desolate. Suddenly, a flash of emotion crossed Clary's face; a sort of melancholy look that made Jace press his finger down on the camera's button again, capturing the moment like one would a butterfly in a glass case._

"_I think Ms. Culsko will really enjoy this piece." Clary spoke softly as if her voice had left her._

_Jace shook his head as he passed her the camera. "No, she'll love it, Clary."_

_The tiny, red head turned to Jace with a smile as she took the camera willingly from his large hands. Her fingers closed over his as he passed it; he knew he should have took his hands back already but he couldn't seem to find the strength to move, not with her small, soft skin caressing his own. "You think so?"_

_Jace smiled, one that made his lips pull up and his grin to be lopsided. A smile no one had ever seen; no one except his mother and the Lightwoods. Ignoring the flash of guilt and sadness that shot through him, he nodded his head. The rain had long ago stopped but his hair was still damp and his clothes still soaked to the bone. "I know so."_

_He looked down at the photo of the painting on the camera's damp screen as Clary turned her head downward to do the same, her hair lightly brushed the skin on his chin as the scent of strawberries and soap took to the air. He leaned over her as they both held tight to the digital camera before them and finally Jace felt free. Something he'd never felt before; free and safe. Like he could run the world but the world couldn't touch him. He wanted to paint more walls and walk mindlessly through the rain without a jacket on. He wanted to apologize to the Lightwoods._

_He wanted to kiss Clary._

_But he wouldn't. Because that would mean breaking this moment; a moment so innocent that he couldn't bring himself to detangle and taint this iota of time that must have been given to him by the same angel that hovered before him now. He didn't want to detach her small hands from around his own or the feeling of her soft touch that was making his fingers twitch slightly and his pulse to race._

_And even when they did let go of each other and walk back the way they came, Jace knew the moment was still there. Even when he dropped her off at her porch and she kissed his cheek. Even when he walked through the door to his house at 2:30 in the morning or when he fell to his bed with exhaustion. It was still there hovering between them; something so sweet and unspoken. He could still feel her soft, rose-like lips that caressed his rough cheek and the way his hands tingled and burn from where she had touched him earlier._

_Jace had slept with more women than he could count on his fingers. But this was different; this was innocent and sweet; something that was just an adolescent and was growing fast. Something that was festering in his stomach and making his heart burn when he thought of her. He couldn't exactly put to words what was going on._

_And he didn't know if he truly liked it but he wanted to continue; down this path that he had no idea how to walk, that he was completely in the darkness to. So, he would have to let Clary guide him down it; because she held a light no one else seemed to, because life burned so bright in her that it was beginning to burn in him too._

_Jace fell asleep with a smile on his face that night; thinking of rotting, old buildings so beautiful it hurt his eyes to look at them; of angels and weeping children; of darkness that burned red and of a tombstone with his name on it._

* * *

I didn't know what all that meant then. What my brain was trying to tell me with that dream. I'll still never know what it meant by putting my name on that tombstone: did it mean the death of the old me or what I would become if I kept this relationship up with Clarissa Garroway.

Either way, I didn't really care because at that point nothing was stopping me from seeing that small, confusing red head. At least, that's why I thought that night.

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun!**

**So, what will happen tomorrow to change what he and Clary have made?**

**What has he done to the Lightwoods?**

**WILL HE EVER KISS CLARY?**

**Find out in the next chapter, my lovelies ;)**


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